


The One With The Curtains

by WhoreOfPromethea



Series: A Clone And An Irwin Walk Into A Bar [5]
Category: Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant
Genre: F/M, Gen, canonical incestuous relationship, canonically disabled character, medical conditions mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoreOfPromethea/pseuds/WhoreOfPromethea
Summary: Post ‘Coming To You Live’ - Georgia and Shaun return home to their cabin, and life resumes.





	The One With The Curtains

We spent a few days longer than necessary staying at the lab. Doctors Abbey and Kimberley wanted to keep an eye on my freshly-acquired reservoir condition, Shaun wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to spontaneously drop dead on the way home, and I was just along for the ride. It was nice to see our friends again; the three percentile difference made me a little cuddlier, and I wasn’t so eager to just bail on our friends again. 

Still, the promise of returning every eighteen months kept them from physically preventing us from leaving again. Maggie was particularly stubborn, though, purchasing a stupid amount of things for us to take home with us: Coke, expensive coffee, birth control, new clothes, other boxes I didn’t bother inspecting yet. There was another box, too, about the length of my arm, which contained eighteen months worth of Shaun’s new medication. 

“There’s an antidepressant, and a light antipsychotic. They might make him tired at first, so don’t let him out in that shed of his for the first few weeks.” Doctor Abbey stressed this upon me, “make sure he takes them at the same time every day.” 

I was taking that very seriously, but Shaun didn’t seem to want to argue. He took his medication dutifully, and we took turns driving home. Needing to wear sunglasses again was a familiarity to me, comforting as hell, even when I knew I wasn’t the woman who remembered needing them. My experience with retinal KA would possibly be different to the original Georgia, but one thing I did know was that I was now as immune to amplifying as Shaun. I took more comfort in that than I should have, possibly because it kept me from thinking about the source of my brand shiny new organs. 

I wasn’t going to die. Not today. Not any time in the foreseeable future. If I needed another transplant, my friends the mad scientists would be able to find another organ or two. It was surreal, it perverted the laws of nature, but it was part of who I was. 

—

The first thing we did when we got home was unpacked the van. 

I suppose I should have expected it, given how thorough Maggie had been in packing our other supplies, but I still laughed at the contents of the box I had just cut open. She must have heard my comment to Shaun, or someone had and then relayed it to her. 

The box was full of curtains. None of them, thankfully, were white. Some of them were patterned, but they all had one thing in common: they were made of the same sort of thick material that would keep the harsh sunlight out. They were designed for people with retinal KA. 

“Well,” said Shaun, upon seeing the source of my laughter, “you did say we would need to hang curtains.”

He was right. Very, very right. And thanks to whoever had mentioned it to Maggie, we now wouldn’t need to source the damn things. She’d packed a good variety as well, in case I decided to be choosy. Living the way we lived, I wasn’t, but it was nice to be given options.

The Smiths had fed our chickens for us while we were away; they had helped themselves to the eggs, too, which Shaun had told them to freely do. With the supplies Maggie had packed for us, and the vegetables in the garden that weren’t strictly for trading, we would be alright for months before we started needing to think about collecting supplies again. 

Either way, we weren’t about to abandon our routine. Shaun went right back to his shed and his furs, trading them for things we needed, like lightbulbs and more soy bacon. I tended my garden. I wrote to our friends. 

But before we did any of that? We hung the curtains.


End file.
